My body is a cage
by yohdawn
Summary: The two of them are the only remainders of sanity while the world is insane. Johanna and Katniss try to cope with everything what happened and find comfort and warmth in each other. There's always a risk of losing their minds but how will they manage to survive when memories and nightmares tear them from inside out every day?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hello everyone. Recently I became obsessed with Joniss and I've been thinking about their dynamic a lot so I decided to write a fic. What you need to know is that Katniss and Johanna are currently sharing the compartment like in the "Mockingjay" but everything else will probably be just made up by me. I guess most of my fic will take place at the compartment as I will try to write more about their feelings and thoughts. They will get together eventually so you just wait. I hope you enjoy it and tell me your opinion.  
Sorry about the mistakes.**

Johanna:

"_I'm living in an age  
Whose name I don't know  
Though the fear keeps me moving  
Still my heart beats so slow"_

Run, faster and faster, run. There's no turning back now, there's no exit. These landscapes are unforgiving, the harsh reality is unforgiving. You hear the cannon go off, again and again. The sound etches its way into your memory that you doubt you'll be ever able to forget what death sounds like. You feel as if it will never stop and it's true – there's no pause, the Games are never ending, never stopping, never ceasing. Everything changes here in a blink of an eye. You want to scream, to express your anger, your fear, your sadness, you want to shout into the void but you can't do that – other tributes will find you and kill you with no mercy. There is no mercy when a human's life is at stake. The primal instinct to survive takes over and the tributes just get into a state of trance, adrenalin rushes all over the body, pumping blood faster. There is no control here. But maybe death would be for the better, you would cease to exist. The sharp pain, the sound of the cannon and then you're gone. Nothing, you'd disappear into oblivion. Not much would change, would it? To win the Hunger Games is the same as dying just in a different way, it's a different form of death. You stop running, the only thing you hear is yourself, trying to catch your breath, the axe feeling heavy in your arms. Suddenly, there's some sort of gush of wind and you feel stabbing pain. So short yet so devastating. There's a taste of blood in your mouth and when you look at your abdomen -you see blood soaking your suit. What the hell? Are you dying? You slowly try and turn around to see the attacker, anyone, who's trying to kill you. Your vision is all blurry, your hands are shaking, dropping the axe into the ground. You see silhouettes of people while you try and get closer to them, to see their faces clearer, to see, who will be responsible for your death. It's… it's your family. Standing there, frowning at you, cursing you, yelling at you. Their looks are mixed with anger and disappointment. Then you hear someone laughing, not them, the sound is coming from all around you. It's Snow, laughing at you, mocking you, making fun of you. His laugh doesn't seem to stop and you try to scream but your mouth is full of blood. Then everything fades to black.

"Johanna?" You hear a voice somewhere in the distance, you feel someone shaking your shoulders. "Johanna? Snap out of it".

Suddenly you jerk awake. You have no idea what's going on.

"What?" you don't seem to understand what the problem is. "What's happening?" you ask but you don't even fully comprehend who you're talking to. It's like all of your memory has been erased and there's just vast emptiness in your head.

"Johanna, you started screaming in your sleep, you had a nightmare. You're okay now" Katniss whispers sympathetically but with concern in her eyes. Katniss. For a second you forgot who you were, where you were and what you've been doing. It's all coming back to you now. All the colors are back, all the meanings, all the senses. You're in District 13, you're in your compartment, you are roommates with the girl on fire, the Mockingjay – Katniss Everdeen.

"Sor-, sorry, brainless" you stutter for a second but then immediately regain your composure. Never show any weakness. Though it's futile, you and Katniss have been sharing this compartment for quite some time so you think that at this point she knows you quite well. Or so you assume. You've become friends, how ironic. The person you've despised so much became your closest friend. There's still some venom in your words when you talk to her but maybe it's because you're not so good with words and feelings. You hope that she understands.

"No, but really" Katniss is still looking at you, never breaking eye contact "Are you fine? How are you feeling?".

You don't even know what to answer at this point. Are you fine? These nightmares never stop, you just keep dreaming of your first Games, the Quartell Quell, the torture, the death of your family. It never goes away, it never gets easier. You feel as if you can't breathe.

"No".

Katniss doesn't say anything and only now you notice that she's sitting on the edge of your bed. You start making out her features in the dark. She looks tired but nevertheless, honestly concerned about you. The next moment she just puts her warm hand on yours. You haven't even noticed that you were gripping the sheets, your knuckles almost as pale as the sheets themselves. You relax as soon as you feel her touching yours. You're grateful that Katniss seems to know how to comfort you in just the right way, never pushing and asking too much. You're grateful but you never tell her. She knows it. It's an exchange really. You comfort her as well, when she's fighting her own monsters, her own battles, her own nightmares. You just usually hold her hand and never say a word.

Silence is golden.


	2. Chapter 2

Katniss:

"_Falling slowly, eyes that know me  
And I can't go back  
Moods that take me and erase me  
And I'm painted black"_

It's difficult and sometimes you want to scream, sometimes you want to break and just sometimes, you want to die. When you think about the Games, you think that lucky were the ones who died first. A lot of people have died and they are at ease now, they are in peace (or so you hope). It's hard to believe that you envy the dead but it's true and you're not lying to yourself. It's difficult to be alive and try to cope with all the ghosts and the screams of the dead, to overcome the mocking of the living. Life was never easy but now it's just unbearable. You know that it's even more difficult for Johanna. Johanna, she has a longer list of dead people who mattered to her, more people to dream about, more memories and that means more pain. You don't know if it's a curse or a blessing that the ones you care the most about are alive – Peeta, Haymitch, Prim, your mother, Finnick, Annie, Gale, Johanna… But there are still so many things that haunt you. You remember the times before you were reaped, when your only concern was to feed your family. It seems so far away, the joy when your arrow hit the target. Now most of your targets are people and you know that there's no hope for them, because you never miss. You never knew that there were so many different kinds of sadness. Your peers, the sadness inspires them, it inspires the rebellion, the sadness pushes them forward, there's fire in their eyes. On the other hand, Peeta, Annie, Finnick, Beetee, Haymitch – they have that sort of emptiness, just at times they feel so empty, so hollow. You guess the moment they think about or remember the Games, their eyes change instinctively. There's experience there which none of them wish to have. You call it the syndrome of the past victors. Then there's you and Johanna. So different, yet so similar. Johanna has lost everything and you, well, you didn't lose as much as her. Still, the two of you seem the most heavily broken yet you pretend to be strong. It's a coping mechanism. But yes, this is not a competition, everyone knows that. Like Haymitch once said – "There are no winners in the Games. Only survivors".

There are no silent nights or calm nights in our compartment. It's either you or her. You both got used to the occasional screams and tears and the two of you deal with it in a similar manner – you shut yourselves out. You curl up in a ball trying to stuff all of your feelings down, trying to push them underneath the surface. Sometimes you don't want to, sometimes you let the feelings linger, just so you could feel like a human being again. Recently you thought about the comfort of Johanna's strong arms and how she just holds your hand and caresses your back when you cry and kick and scream. Involuntarily you think - if you ever get out of here and back to your old life, will there be anyone who will be able to comfort you as she does? You always thought it would be Peeta, it _had_ to be Peeta. But after you realized what the Capitol has done to him, you doubt he'll ever be the same, the two of you will never be the same.

"Do you love him?" Johanna asks one time. You contemplate but you have no idea what to answer her.

"I don't" you start. "I think I wanted to love him, I felt the need to love him. At times I even thought I tricked myself into loving him. But I never did. Though I have always cared for him, he showed me his generosity, his kindness, his gentleness and I will never be able to repay him". Johanna looks at you but says nothing; it's as if she's waiting for you to continue. She can read you so well now.

"I think it's my fault. I think that I feel guilty for not loving him. But I just don't, I can't control who I fall in love with" you state almost angrily, remembering how it's your fault and only yours. You were the first to start pretending to be star-crossed lovers. You did this, you tricked everyone.

Johanna is sitting on her bed, cross-legged, staring at the pillow in her hands. It is dark, the middle of the night but you see her silhouette really clearly. You see her short and spiky hair, you see her toned arms, her white t-shirt and sleeping shorts, her long legs. But you don't see what matters the most and speaks the most to you – her big hazel eyes. So you too start staring at the edge of your bed, silence filling the room. You're under a blanket, lying in your bed but you're shaking uncontrollably.

"Love is weird" she repeats the phrase she once said in the Quarter Quell. It's just that this time, there's more confidence in her voice, more strength.

"It is" you reply simply. There's nothing left to say in this matter.

It's as if she just read your mind. "Will you be able to sleep now?" she asks quietly.

This time, it was you who woke up screaming, cold sweat engulfing your body. It was Johanna who helped you to wake up from the nightmare. After holding your hand and caressing your back, Johanna went to sit on her bed, never saying a word, only now asking about Peeta.

"I don't know". You really don't. Before you even understand the meaning of the words (you swear that sometimes you say things faster than the brain has the ability to comprehend them), they're already out "I need you".

There's silence again. You can't take it and you close your eyes. You hear her silent footsteps.

"Move over, brainless" you hear her whisper but there's no venom in her words. She's just as tired as you are, just as worn out and torn.

You do as she says and you feel her get in your narrow bed and under the warm covers. You're facing the ceiling; eyes still closed while you feel her shift and face you. There's immediately a feeling of comfort, she brings comfort with her, she must be carrying it around with her because there's no one else that makes you feel this way. So you turn on your side to face her as well, never opening your eyes but burying your face in her neck, your arms around her thin waist. It's something magical, the moment you inhale her scent which is a mix of pine and wood and earth, you feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Her arms find their way and rest on your smaller back, giving you a sense of security. You relax into her.

Comfort, security, peace – this is only a narrow spectrum of feelings that you feel right now, there's fire in the pit of your stomach. She brings it out with her fierceness; she brings it out with her ability to understand with no words.

"I'm here" the last thing you remember her saying and kissing the top of your head before you fell asleep. There were no nightmares that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Johanna:

"_And it's been awhile, since I can say that I wasn't addicted  
And it's been awhile, since I can say I love myself as well  
And it's been awhile, since I've gone and fucked things up just like I always do  
And it's been awhile, but all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you"_

You hate it, despise it. If there's ever the end of the world, you imagine there would be rain then. You hate the sound of the rain, the feeling of your skin burning with intensity, your veins aching with pain underneath. It kills you. Sometimes there's nothing wrong but sometimes – it's everything at once, life likes to throw all these things at you at once. You remember your addiction. The feeling of the needle, the ecstatic first few seconds, the tranquility later. There's always the danger of relapse though but you try to push through. Yet there are some days when you think you can't take it. The voices of your loved ones in your head, the ghost touches of theirs on your skin, the blood, the screams, the Capitol, the water. Then you curl up into a fetal ball and try not to think or feel. You just ache for a fix, for that one hit to take away the pain and make you feel better. And by making you feel better it's making you feel less, numbing you, numbing the excruciating pain, silencing the screams in your head. There are days when you think everything is crumbling away at your fingers. Because as humans we ruin everything we touch, including other people. That's why you ignore her sometimes, you avoid any contact with her, her skin. You don't want to ruin her with your tainted touch, your dirty hands, so you push her away when she tries to comfort you or hug you. You haven't told her about this but you think she understands. Most of the times she gets you when there are no words spoken, when there's deadly silence. You figure that you're just no good with words. It's like deep down you know how you feel but when you try and find the right words – there are none. So you just think she understands even though it's very selfish of you.

She does.

"Katniss?" you call out her name one dark night. Your eyes are closed, you're tired, drained out.

"What?" her voice is a bit hoarse from not talking for a while. You have barely talked today at all, you blame the pouring rain.

"I'm sorry".

There's a pause there. You want to tell her how you hate it, the rain, how it makes you feel, how you'd rather not feel sometimes, how you'd rather die. You want to tell her how Snow has ruined you, how her comforting words or touches seem to fix you, bit by bit. But you don't say anything more, you can't.

"I know" her voice trembles. "But don't ever apologize for how you feel, no one can control it" she states simply and then turns in the warm and narrow bed to face you. You've been sharing the bed since the last time you comforted her last week. You don't say it (as per usual) but you do feel better with her by your side, you don't feel so alone. You can just reach out and touch her anytime.

But you don't, you're too afraid.

The next couple of days are dreadful. You train in the rain, wincing at every drop of rain hitting your skin. It's burning like acid, there's no escape from this. You can't eat, you can't sleep, you can't concentrate, you can't talk, you can't exist. You just curl up in your bed and lay there all day, staring at the four walls vacantly. It is day 4 of the never-ending rain and you feel like you're withering away slowly. It's late in the evening and you hear the door open and close. Katniss must've returned from dinner.

"Johanna" she calls out your name. It's weird but you hear a bit of anger in her voice.

Yet you don't move, you don't want to and you can't, your body feels heavy.

"Johanna!" she repeats. Yes, there is definitely anger.

"What is it, brainless?" you manage to ask, pissed off, not even looking at her. Your back is to the door where she's standing.

"We didn't save you just so I could watch you fade away day by day" she shouts and you wince. That's a sensitive topic but what topics aren't? You feel like you've lost control.

"Well then you should've fucking left me there to die cause that was the only thing I really wanted" you jump off the bed now angry as well. You didn't ask for this, you didn't ask to be saved. You just wanted to be dead, to feel nothing, to be nothing. You stare angrily at her, fire in your eyes.

Katniss is taken aback by your words, you can see it in her grey eyes. There's something else you see but can't figure out. She takes a step closer, extending her hand, waiting for you to take it as you've done so before numerous times.

"Don't" you say as you look into another direction. You hug your bony shoulders. You don't need her pity. "Don't do this right now" you can't look at her or else you will comply, you know you will, she always finds a way. You would let her take you into her strong arms and embrace you, making you feel better. But what if this time you don't want to feel better? What if you really want to disappear?

"Don't push me away, you need me as much as I need you" you hear her say softly. Wait, what? You can't believe it. She, she needs you? Katniss fucking Everdeen, the Mockingjay, the symbol and the leader of the rebellion needs _you_? There's no way, you can't believe it.

Until you feel soft lips claiming yours.


End file.
